We Call Hell Home Now
by badassbellamyblake
Summary: Bellarke Role Reversal. Clarke is the rebel and Bellamy is the prince of the Ark. They were sent to earth, and Bellamy has his agenda: inform the dying Ark that it supports life, while Clarke has hers: screw the Ark over any way she can, preventing them from coming down at all.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there. This was a request I received on tumblr, and the response to it there was so lovely that I thought I would continue it and placate everyone. _This is an AU The 100 fic, where Bellamy Blake's and Clarke Griffin's roles are reversed: he's the privileged, and she is the rebel. Takes place immediately after the dropship lands and they exit it._ Alas, enjoy!**

* * *

We Call Hell Home Now

Her hand around the metal bar flexed as she spoke, daring _his_ _royal highness_ to tear his eyes from hers and acknowledge who held the power here.

"We're on the ground now," she practically purred, reveling at the freedom of the notion, "your kind doesn't rule down here."

Bellamy bit back the urge to yell at her, instead choosing to try and reason with her. "And what makes you think you get to decide what happens here, Clarke?"

"I don't get to decide, _sire,"_ Clarke spun around, lifting the metal bar to the gathered crowd, leveling it before each of their hundred- ninety-eight- faces, "they decide." She turned back to him. "We decide."

Cheers erupted around them, and Clarke's pretty face was marred by a challenging smirk. Helplessness Bellamy had only experienced once before coursed through him, manifesting in his shifting feet and clenching jaw. He didn't have time for this. _They_, the rest of the humans now on earth, didn't have time for this. If he ever wanted to see his sister again, he needed to relay back to the Ark that Earth was hospitable.

Their home in the sky was dying and unless its inhabitants could follow the group of criminals and ne'er-do-wells down to Terra Firma, everyone aboard the Ark- Octavia included- would suffer the horrible effects of oxygen deprivation and cease to exist.

And Clarke Griffin, miscreant daughter of a seamstress and Lord knows who, stood in his way, threatening everything that mattered.

"Clarke," he took a step towards her and spoke quietly, almost hissing his words in urgency, "if those still in space don't hear that earth supports life, they are all going to die. Your mother included."

Whatever affect he hoped to achieve with that last sentence evaporated quicker than her amused expression.

"Let me tell _you_ something, Prince. Bellamy. Blake," she punctuated each word of his name with a sharp jab to his chest. "I don't care if the whole damn sky ceases to exist if it means my mother will fade away along with it."

Something akin to sadness flashed behind her eyes, but a tic in her temple drew his attention. "My mother is the reason I was in confinement for four years. She is the reason I'm here today. To _hell _with her. It's only fair," her voice dropped to just a light breeze, "since that's where they sent us."

Confused, Bellamy regarded her carefully, trying to gauge if the abundance of oxygen was messing with her head.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. You don't get to be sorry. I know how your kind work, Blake. You don't know the meaning of the word."

On that note, Clarke donned a smile- a fake one, he learned, for the dark shadow still lingered in her eyes- and allowed one of the other boys to swoop her up in his arms and swing her around in a boisterous dance.

"We are the sinners," she sung at the top of her lungs. A chorus of voices repeated her yell, egging her on. "They sent us to hell to die," she roared, thrusting the metal rod into the air. "So let's dance on our graves tonight!"

The forest shook with the elated hooting and hollering of the group, and Bellamy took that opportunity to retreat back to the dropship, in hopes that the radio was intact. He rubbed at his wristband mindlessly as he fiddled with wires and toggles, hating that he only paid half a mind to the engineering courses he had been forced to take.

"Comm. won't work," an all too familiar voice stated behind him, some time later.

He didn't bother to turn around as he replied. "And how do you know that, Clarke?"

"Because," she began solemnly, shoving a crude jug of water his way, "the Ark is fine. Everything is fine up there."

Hesitantly, he accepted the water, and when it hit his lips, Bellamy saw stars. Who knew water could taste so delicious- who knew water could _taste_ anything?

"I don't see what that has to do with anything down here..?"

She sighed heavily, and for the first time, he saw something other than defiance in her. "Do you know why I'm down here?" He shook his head, and she pursed her lips, nodding slowly, accepting this fact. "I'm down here… because my father managed to capture an errant satellite before it careened into our orbit. Instead of sending it to Scrap, he kept it."

Clarke paused, a pained expression on her face.

"We fixed it up, put a remote controlled op lens on it and sent it back out on a garbage release. I like to draw you see, and my dad… he wanted to let me see the earth closely, even if I couldn't be there. Let's just say, I saw more than I needed to see."

Cold panic lanced its way up Bellamy's spine in response to the bitter edge she had affected. Something big was being kept from her words, but its mark coated every last one of them.

"What did you see?"

Moisture pooled in her eyes, and Bellamy swallowed hard. This was not the same girl that led a band of demons in a dance earlier.

"I don't want them to be scared," she admitted, gesturing towards the entrance of the dropship. "But I'm petrified."

He was starting to think that confusion was something people generally felt when talking to Clarke. "The air is breathable, there isn't a glass parking lot or any mutated animals as far as I can tell. What's there to be afraid of?"

"We're not alone, Bellamy. The people here… they sent us to die."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

He would never see his sister again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is short, but after this, I plan on lengthening them. Thank you for the support, and if you have any thoughts about it, please leave me a review! Enjoy!**

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This is War

He had been quiet for a long time, processing her words, trying to feel for any sign of deceit that he could latch onto and escape this reality. Clarke sat motionless beside him, letting him get lost in himself. She didn't speak and Bellamy wished she would, if only to take his mind off of what his life had become.

_They sent us here to die._

It had to be true, for there were no supplies, no working radios, no _anything._ Just a rowdy group of a hundred delinquents breathing real air for the first time in their short lives.

"How do these people, these Grounders, fit into the equation?" Bellamy spoke suddenly, surprising both himself and Clarke.

"They- they are barbarians," she began, pulling a tattered book from her bag. Despite its fragile appearance, Clarke did not comb delicately through the pages, choosing instead to flip through them, until she stopped suddenly and thrust the book into his hands.

An image of a man jumped from the page, in thick, dark lines of charcoal. His face was hidden by a mask the shape of a skull- Bellamy refused to believe it was a real one- and a blade gleamed from his hand.

"This is one of them?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"Yes," she whispered, pulling the book from him briefly, to flip the page, before handing it back to him. "And this is what happens to those that cross them."

A mound of bodies, this time done in bleeding shades of red and black, screamed at him from the book.

Bellamy dropped it, recoiling from the image and glaring at Clarke. This was all her fault.

"So what's your grand plan, Clarke?" He spat, his rage only growing as she flinched and glared at him. "Get everyone to kill themselves partying before the Grounders come and attack? Do you know how _stupid_ that is?"

They wouldn't be here if it weren't for her and her father, Bellamy concluded, and that realization made him wish to see her floated.

He would never see Octavia again. Because of Clarke Griffin.

"My plan? Let them enjoy life, because we're on earth and we _can_. Until death comes for us." She bent over and scooped up her book, and waved it in his face. "What about you, Bellamy? You left the one thing you care about miles above where you can protect her. Do _you_ know how stupid _that _is?"

Both panting, they faced each other, tendrils of electricity sending static down their spines.

Bellamy didn't want to focus on the gravity of his mistake. He didn't want to think about how, for the second time in his life, he let his sister down: there was no fixing this, he knew, but that didn't mean he couldn't fix the situation he was in now.

"I am not innocent, Clarke," he uttered calmly, trying to control himself, "but make no mistake that when people start dying, my hands are clean."

He brushed past her, making sure she felt the coldness of his shoulder as he passed. "Take a good look around, rebel: this mistake? This one's on you."

* * *

It was late when Clarke finally emerged from the dropship. All eyes flew to her, and the flicker of flames cast long shadows on her face, enhancing the grim-set line of her lips.

"They sent us here to die," she professed, her voice shaking slightly as it left her mouth, matching the way her hands quivered at her sides. Bellamy watched her intently, wondering if the tension from their argument was trapped inside her, itching to be released- because he felt it deep within him as well.

"But when have we ever done what they wanted?" A few cheers punctuated her words, and Clarke's smile grew: she had them.

"When I said last night that we were sent here to die, I meant it. There are people here- Grounders-" her eyes flitted towards Bellamy, "- that will kill us once they find us. What they don't know is that we are killers and thieves and miscreants, and we will not give in so easily. We are not the prim, delicate members of the Ark. No, we are the gritty, hardasses that are here to claim earth as our own again. Because, like everything else in our lives, it is ours for the taking. The only difference now, is that there's no men in riot gear threatening to float us! Our feet are firmly planted in the ground, and that's how it's going to stay."

The last word heralded a cacophony of applause, but Clarke did not linger to take it in. Instead, she made a beeline for Bellamy, and pulled him along with her as she made for the trees.

Once they were sufficiently far away from the group, she turned towards him.

"You're right. This is on me." Her eyes glittered like the stars as she hesitated. "But I need your help. I can rally a group," she smirked and he returned the gesture, "but I can't keep them mobilized."

Crossing his arms, he took her in, cataloguing the desperation in her pleading face. "Alright, I'll help you," he acquiesced, "but we're doing things my way. Got it, princess?"

Her eyebrows shot up and she scoffed as the nickname. "Princess?"

"Yep," he said, popping the word merrily. "You just became the leading class of earth. Welcome to royalty."


End file.
